Sometimes I wonder if people who constantly complain about their problems in life, have time to appreciate things. And I wonder if only people who are truely fighting their demons inside realize they honestly need to appreciate even the littlest things to get by. I do it everyday, in the bathroom, sitting on the cold porcelain, with water running, I say I am thankful for air and the day even when someone outside is screaming bloody hell at me. I thank the sky for being blue and the clouds to drive by. Even though, it makes me a little sad, I have overcome some demons and learned to realize nothing can really hurt or get to me except myself. I have gotten past self pity and am top of appreciation. I am a very fortunate person and you should feel the same. You are capable to spend time writing about your life, contemplating it, reading others, sharing stories. We have time to be happy but you'd rather fret about people not liking you, or not being good enough, or something else.

It sounds really sad, I have to tell myself how to be happy, over and over and over again. And I do not want to be subjected to being someone I myself would dislike, someone who whines about everything, is unhappy with every aspect of their life or doens't know when to shut up about it. I pride myself in being strong and would never be a burden to others with my emotions. It's just something I never wrapped myself around.

I ain't no goddamn son of a bitch, you better think about it baby

I forgot painting and Misfits are my salvation late at night. I need more clearheadedness like this.

measured by ugliness

Spite is a very powerful thing.

And beautiful if used wisely and to the best of your ability. Trust me on this.

slave to the wage

Something about falling asleep with a few tears glistening over something not worth crying over, a miniscule memory, the dreary, blurry past. It's about waking up and having your quiet demeanored morning routine stirred by a messy father with his toaster, his stove on, crumbs from toast, jelly dripping off a blunt knife onto the counter. Not wanting to deal with "Good morning, how are you?" You rather rage silently in your head about how you have a set restriction to go about mornings, make two pieces of plain toast, gulp down a small glass of juice, grab coffee and let it sit to cool down while I brush my crumbs into my palm, throw into sink, throw dishes into dishwasher, unplug toaster, be tidy. I have no time to wait around for him to be sloppy in my environment that does not want human quality conversation. The day is gray, the air is chill, the clothes are too slutty for your mother waiting in the car as I sit in the passenger seat moaning over her nagging, apply masacara, pucker lips, apply plum lipstick in the mirror on the visor, ignore her voice underneath music. In class, I sit near a boy with braces, yellow food stuck inbetween the metal wires, he smiles anxiously as we are the only ones in a row of 20 present, his bottom lip is pierced twice with black piercings. I lay back in my seat, fidget through my things and hope to god there isn't group work, as it is always an awkward situation. It is individual work, thankfully but he makes effort to brush past in the compact rows against sheer leggings. I watch the clock to my right like a hawk on its prey, it is over, onwards to the next class, pass through as the teacher assistant mentions it's Thanksgiving, no one cares. The next class is almost the same. Afterwards, mother is outside, I can see her from behind the windshield shaking her head at her skanky daughter. I get in, she is not in a good mood because I am a bitch. We open another bank accountfor my extra grants and I overpower her as she tries to control more of my life, I interject and tell the man it is my money from the government and to listen to me. We all agree eventually, I am given a new account for student funds or something like that, we continue home. In the turning lane, a car is broken down so conveniently and we have to stall behind a school bus full of obnoxious tweensters who take every oppurtunity to wave, make faces and rude gestures at us. I laugh nervously, but I am annoyed, I pray for the light to change so I can disappear.

I am here now, I am mad. It is my first night of Thanksgiving break and I should be a beer down already, yes at five to five p.m, a beer in. But I am sitting here with lukewarm coffee and a day old half eaten burrito. Nothing is sacred today, I love my sacredness of my daily routines of anxiously awaiting your arrival online or your already present name appear on the screen. But you have to do family things whereas I don't even celebrate holidays other than with you and in the past- friends. Drinking on rooftops, bashing each other into the shingles blasting music. But tonight, I willsay I sm focused to do my studying and my cleaning and painting and everything else but I will procrastinate. Only because I want to be by your side where I feel at most myself, comfortable, safe, secure, content beyond recognition. Perhaps tomorrow.

psychedlic jungle

This girl told me I dressed phenominal today while another next to her said I wore things she'd be too scared to wear and like I fell out of a magazine. Kind of funny because I thought I looked insane. I went to apply at this place that I was told asked about Morrissey in their interview but the guys kept stumbling through their words and told me to come back when they're opened.

My cool cousin wants me to visit during my christmas break so I can stay at his crazy apartment building in Brooklyn and go see the Tim Burton exhibit at MoMa. He hugged Tim Burton since he went in dressed as Edward Scissorhands on stilts, my cousin is way more awesome than me. I'm gonna spend this Thanksgiving break with Addison as usual, and perhaps painting, eating a lot and drinking cheap champagne and beer all while playing Scarface since that has been our everyday thing. Oh and snuggling of course. I need a job, I found two faux fur coats I want and an expensive dress. I got $2200 from the school because I had money left over from my grants and scholarships but I might spend it on clothes. Oops. My hand hurts, I'm out.